Cirque de Harsh

I'm so rubbish, I wanted to do these at least every two days. I think it barely averages out at that! Oh well, things have been hectic-ish.

The weekend was grand, stopped by Ghost in Farringdon for catastrophe du moment, Jodie Harsh's travelling Circus night. Was enormous fun, though mainly because I consumed far more than at William & Son. Had I not, I doubt I would have enjoyed myself so much. As it was, I was there to see some friends performing in fabulous Union flag bodysuits with bunny ears. I kid not, they form part of an army in Bishi's One Nation. To (possibly, whosoever can predict these things) storm the charts soon. I don't even know what it sounds like, I was too busy dancing on a platform to indiscernible bass.

The crowd was equally indiscernible. Who are they all? An uber-fashionistic, wannabe, out-there generic, "avant-garde" attempt at cool. I can hardly talk, but I was at least the sole person (so far as I could see) wearing a poppy. And I judge people who don't wear them. Which is difficult today, because my poppy disappeared yesterday and I haven't found them anywhere to replace it. And I worry others judge me.

"No no," I protest as I feel their glances, running over my bare, naked, poppy-free lapel.
"I lost it, I'm getting another, point me in the right direction, don't judge me, please. I am one of you, I truly am! Believe ME!"

And so on. Because it IS important to me. Particularly as our soldiers are still fighting so far from home and on our behalf. I don't think there could be many people with no connections to this and former conflicts. And I think it is very important to recognize their sacrifice.

But I digress. A good night, but I fail to see the hype. Pretentious drag-queens and an overweight man wearing little more than tights does precious little to inspire (and at worst puts one off food). But all in the name of fun I suppose, and admittedly I paid nothing to get in. Equally someone at the bar looked after me, even creating a drink out of... Well I think he said Rum, amongst other things. It must have been lethal, because I woke up the next day on the floor at a friend's in Southgate. Grand!

A day in bed and then ready to face Part 2. A charming night at the Lexington, courtesy of fiancée Treacle. She is an amazing DJ, though admittedly if you dislike Northern Soul you may find it a tad dull. But then who would care, you would be ignored.

A dull live band, sneaked-in Vodka and then some Champagne later, there was much rejoicing. I much preferred it to Circus simply because there, nobody paid much attention to you. At Circus, it feels like the whole club is staring at you and making its judgement. Which is fine, and quite amusing. But not for every evening, if you don't mind.

Toodle pip!

Faber-Castell

The 2009 Pen of the Year is a marvellous hand-woven horse hair instrument.

And should you wish your own stallion to be immortalised, pluck some tail hairs and send them off to Graf von Faber-Castell, a charming member of the German aristocracy. He knows the only woman in Europe who hand-weaves horse hair. Fabulous.

Sans doute, I owe William & Son for this introduction. They put on a grand evening... New cocktail from the Connaught, a Handwriting analyst, people in Polo costumes - endlessly charming. Naturally, regulars to such events have heard it all before, but I am not. So brag I shall! I learned from the analyst that I am: brave, bold, prefer to be organised yet appreciate spontaneity. And that I am quite honest, I don't hide. True-ish. Effectively, it was a lot of compliments and whosoever wouldn't feel flattered?

Unfortunately, the quantity of champagne had a peculiar effect on me. I had no idea excess consumption of alcohol had such symptoms. Where on earth have I been? Most things were amusing, particularly the recession-proof stock at William & Son. The Perfect Pencil is a joy of modern engineering. Perfect indeed, it is naturally high-quality wood, with a special lead that will not break (quite so easily, anyway). But most entertaining is the inclusion of in-built sharpener and replaceable eraser. It really IS perfect. And you would hope so at £175. I did love one spokeswoman telling me "Everyone can afford it!". Yes of course they can. Absolutely. The logic... faultless.

Regardless, a must for stationery fetishists. A must.

By the end, the vision becomes foggier. However I take consolation from the fact I was invited to dinner afterwards by complete strangers. And I went gladly, like the sheep I am. I must therefore have been somewhat amusing, still. But it was all perfectly lovely. Of that, I am sure. But then what isn't perfectly lovely about late-night wanderings through Mayfair. I'll tell you what. Nothing.

Dear William & Son, let me know should you be recruiting!

Answer Time

Well done BBC. However, I think it's rather easy for a sophisticated, left-leaning, Question Time-watching audience to vilify Nick Griffin. Frankly, it isn't necessary as he scores spectacular home goals the second he speaks. (Hurrah, sporting metaphor!)

I doubt that much of the QT audience has ever even contemplated voting for the BNP. It would surprise me if many of its core voters could describe the programme in any detail. And I think that what happened on the television this evening is part of the problem.

Attacking this group of people for their "un-PC" views is unconstructive and ignores the fact that it is a significant number of people who share this view. What is the natural instinct when one is being "backed into a corner"? I think it will only increase their support base. The mainstream has given the BNP a major PR coup, because none of them really (Baroness Warsi excluded) tackled the main issue that garners Griffin support: his stance on immigration. I believe the vast majority abhors racism, but I am sure many find it difficult to discover their neighbourhood is no longer what it was.

There is, of course, nothing inherently wrong with this change. But it is human nature to fear the unknown. The fact that so many embrace it is clearly a positive sign. At any rate, it would be hubristic to ignore the views of such a large number of people, though Baroness Warsi did appear to offer a much more legitimate alternative in the Tories. They must be utterly overjoyed at having her as a spokeswoman, though her electoral failure then subsequent "promotion" does provide more ammunition for the BNP and it's anti-mainstream party propaganda.

As Bonnie Greer said (albeit during the hilarious 'Let's not talk about the BNP for 5 minutes' period), "That's called Democracy. It ain't pretty, but it's the least evil we human beings can make." I rather think that sums up the whole debate. Hmm?

A-Muse.com

Having spent the morning almost entirely devoted to Rachel Weisz and her previous 5 years of living, perhaps you will forgive me for being less than taken by her. But you simply will not have to. If anything, I love her more, she is just breathtaking.

I am also encouraged by her use of stalking to land her role in A Streetcar Named Desire. "Nothing illegal," is more than a green light for me. I am a little amateurish though, I don't think I could compete with the competitive world of the insane. I might be eccentric, but I mean, you know and all that, what! However if even Sir Stephen Fry could engage in covert operations over a school-ground infatuation, then - actually I have done that already. Possibly most of us have, at that age. Or is it simply His Lordship and I?

While clearly I haven't the will to actually go through with the nonsense (Heaven forbid), I can return to my over-admiration of this ravishing lady.

Emma

Now that it has the name...

I have been thoroughly enjoy the BBC's latest Austen adaptation, Emma. Perhaps it is a sign of my age that I am enjoying the 'modern' feel. Which is odd because I have always viewed myself as a purist. Quite conservative and all that. I think it's possibly more to do with a burning desire to return to a life at Highbury.

Oh bother the biscuits have all gone! I turned my back not 10 minutes ago, too. And La Roux is playing. Oh dear La Roux, such... joy. Or joie, I suppose. I don't think the name very fair, The rusty one is actually two. It should really be Les Roux, just to be fair to whatshisname. Though possibly he isn't redheaded. Oh dear.

In Emma (and oddly I do this for many period pieces), I have tried to decide which character I should be. Obviously I couldn't decide. I think none really, but I just like the idea of swanning about in riding gear 24/7. I am on that note hoping to go riding next month. One has to plan these things, you see! And actually I have realised how long it has been. Quite long.

Presently I am of Reduced Circumstance. It makes things difficult, but I am sure I don't need to remind people struggling on the supposed tail-end of the recession. At least most of you have somewhere to live. I currently do not, and it really is a pain. Generously, I have been allowed space underneath a roof, and with the current weather I am enormously grateful. But how awful to have live in the shadows of gratefulness. So straitjacketing. And to constantly feel indebted. Possibly that makes me more of a Miss Bates type. How dull! I truly hope not. Constantly tittering about endlessly, insufferably trivial subjects. Ho! Well at least the dour middle-aged woman part rings false.

And I like to think I have done some interesting things thus far, am significantly more worldly than many far older than myself. Then again what does that matter? It is all so highly subjective. I am frequently accused of snobbery. The bearer of 'hatred'. It is probably justified, but the face-value is just that, isn't it? Underneath my cold, uber-middle class exterior there does lie something... less Frigidaire at the vest least. I do like italics.

I think what my aim in starting this was to begin a retrospective upon myself. Just for my own benefit. At least here the thoughts will not clutter various notebooks and Moleskines. Because there are many. And countless doodles as well. My, I am good for timewastery.

Because of my RC, I also have an abundance of free time. Time for which I have lots of good ideas, but nothing will get done without the necessary motivation. I will try to implement some sort of regime, but who is it accountable to? Oh yes, such a handsome chap too. But therein lies the danger. I have often though about writing, but fell at the first hurdle. The beginning. Even at school my essays would not get off the ground without an introduction. That does sound obvious, but many people would complete the main body of work first, before finishing at the beginning. Ah confusion.

Many bloggers seem so effortlessly cool in what they write, why do I sound like a bizarre mash-up of Mrs Thatcher and The Famous Five? Well I soldier on regardless...


Today I noticed from the window by my desk an odd cigarette shaped thing, spouting smoke from its summit and creating a rather eerie setting for the Newburgh Quarter. Naturally I went to investigate before lunch. (Which was entirely delicious - Aubergine Burger with sweet potato chips at Mrs Marengo's on Lexington St in Soho. Naughtily indulgent considering the RC but so worth it. And it sated a craving for sweet potatoes I've had all week.) Turns out the cigarette was a thermometer in a rather shrewd publicity game. The upshot being that whatever the London temperature, that would be your discount on purchases in the shop. Above average temperatures notwithstanding, I don't envisage a sudden heat wave leaving Soho dehydrated and mal-coordinated (I suppose that role has been filled), and therefore much more prone to buying more luxury fashion items. But I must admit, I quite liked the idea.

I'm sure it's been done (possibly several times), but I don't think it detracts at all. So best of luck. And equally to the consumer should the mercury rise above 15*.

So to embrace said mercury (about 8* I think), I say adieu.

Cheerio!